


He'll Make It Worth Your While

by BrokenHazelEyes



Series: OT4- Greg/Ed/Sam/Spike [33]
Category: Flashpoint
Genre: Other, Shameless Smut, Smut, Who Is Letting The Author Write?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-24
Updated: 2015-08-24
Packaged: 2018-04-16 23:43:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4644453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrokenHazelEyes/pseuds/BrokenHazelEyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Truly, they could have just told him that they didn’t want him going out to meet the lady from America’s FBI cybercrime unit—not that he was planning on taking the job offer; it was just fun to chat with someone who held a passion for the craft, a knowledge that rivaled his own. <br/>But no, instead they had stolen his clothes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	He'll Make It Worth Your While

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy! :D   
> This fic makes no sense, btw. Sorry 'bout that.
> 
> A/N: I don't own Flashpoint, or the characters. I don't make a profit from my writing, but please don't repost anywhere because it's still mine. Thanks!

Stepping out from the heat-fogged bathroom, Spike wrapped a towel around his hips and walked over to the dresser—but he frowned; staring at the empty drawer where he boxers should have been. Stacked neatly, the negotiator and two snipers’ garments were still perched tidily in their respective drawers. The rest of the drawers were the same, too; all his clothes—socks, shirts, pants—were missing. A quick check of the closet brought him to the same conclusion, so the bomb tech crossed his arms over his chest and rolled his eyes at his lovers’ childish antics.

Truly, they could have just _told_ him that they didn’t want him going out to meet the lady from America’s FBI cybercrime unit—not that he was planning on taking the job offer; it was just fun to chat with someone who held a passion for the craft, a knowledge that rivaled his own.

But no, instead they had stolen his clothes.

With a sigh, Spike snatched a pair of Sam’s boxers and jeans and tugged them up his legs—the well-worn material hugging the curve of his muscles loosely. Then he grabbed a shirt, probably Greg’s by the way it hung off his shoulders, and shrugged it on.

Not bothering to try and fix his hair, the bomb tech strolled out of the bedroom and past the living room—not stopping when he heard the three men scramble to their feet.

“Where are you going, Spike?” Ed asked, leaning against the doorway while his younger lover pulled on his shoes with a snort and a shake of his head.

“To my apartment, to go find some clothes,” the brunette crossed his arms over his chest with a raised eyebrow, “All my stuff seems to have disappeared.”

“Really?” Sam asked, shocked, and Spike had to hold back a laugh at how fake it sounded. The blonde didn’t sound ashamed at all, either, for his actions.

“Odd, isn’t it?” The bomb tech said with a knowing smile, “All my clothes go missing an hour before I’m supposed to go meet a _colleague_?” Spike stressed the word, grabbing his keys off the table, “at a bar?”

“You look tired,” Greg tried, “you should stay home, get some rest.”

Spike laughed, pausing with one foot out the front door as he walked back in and gave each of his lovers a kiss.

“And whose fault would that be?” The brunette asked, “I promise, it’s just going to be a bunch of tech terms and talking about new encryption programs,” Spike smiled, “I’ll be back in a couple of hours, alright?”

“We’ll make it worth your while to stay home,” Sam grinned, all youthful and confident bolster, and pressed Spike against the wall next to the door. “Trust me, I bet we can be just as much fun as talking about _encryptions_.” The blonde slipped his hands under Spike’s shirt, teasing hot spots, “Come on, you just got back yesterday from that week long technology conference,” the sniper whined, “We _missed_ you.” He sounded equal parts pitiful and seductive.

“And we spent all of last night together,” Spike snorted, trying to pry his lover’s hands free lightly, “If you don’t _remember_.”

“Oh, I remember quite well,” Sam purred, clutching at his lover’s waist and pressing him harder against the wall, “And, if I _remember_ right, Greg fucked you so hard that you couldn’t sit right this morning.”

“What? Are you and Ed mad that you couldn’t keep up?” Spike laughed at the two snipers’ glares, “Maybe I’ll give you a chance to try again—later,” the bomb tech added, at the younger sniper’s heated look, “Right now there’s a bar waiting for me and very entertaining encryptions that need to be explained.”

“Spike,” Sam whined, pouting, but he was cut off when the bomb tech kissed him hard—and slipped away with the distraction and loosened grip. The brunette waved at his two other lovers—who were standing there with heated looks—and glided out the door towards his car with a wink and a blush fading from his cheeks.

 

* * *

 

Arriving back at Greg’s house, Spike peered into the dim entry—there was something buzzing through his veins, but it wasn’t alcohol. It was something raising hairs on the back of his neck, making his skin prickle, and something that sent heat into his belly.

Fingers slipped into the belt loops of his jeans, and the bomb tech found himself plastered against one of his lovers’ chests. Spike tilted his head up, catching a glimpse of Ed’s scheming face, and found himself caught in a bruising kiss.

“Did you have a good time?” Greg asked, watching with amusement, and let his eyes rove over the scene as Ed’s hand dipped lower and his younger lover’s voice rose and cracked.

“Y-yeah,” Spike panted, “It was fun.”

Sam came up, pushing up against Spike’s torso, and traced his tongue along the bomb tech’s ear. He was rewarded with a shiver as the brunette gave a breathless gasp and bucked his hips forward—his hands reached out, pulling the blonde closer.

“Maybe we should take this to the bed?” Greg suggested, and Sam got a twinkle in his eyes—and Spike gulped, knowing he was going to pay—and a grin slid across his face.

With a trail of clothes, the four eventually made it to the bedroom; covered in wet kisses, hair askew, and red with anticipation.

Immediately, Spike felt a finger probe between his legs; a mouth descended upon his own, and the bomb tech clutched at the negotiator’s hair and surged closer. Spike focused on the lip-lock, not bothering to acknowledge the now-three fingers stretching him open—and Greg was happy to oblige, licking into his mouth with a matched fever.

Suddenly, the brunette was empty—but instead of being rolled around, he felt Greg pull him off to the side. Then the negotiator pushed him back over, and Spike realized he was laying on Ed’s chest—one of the sniper’s arms was wrapped over the bomb tech’s chest, and the other was pulling his legs open.

Spike heard Sam doing something off to the side—a drawer opening, he thought—but any coherency was sapped away as Ed slipped into him. It was an odd angle, and Spike felt more exposed than ever without the familiar weight of one of his lovers pressed atop him. It sent tingles down his spine; it sent his eyes rolling back in his skull. The air chilled his skin, raising goosebumps for his lovers’ wandering hands.

Clutching onto the man below him, Spike tried to not writhe too hard as he watched Greg work himself to orgasm next to them. The bomb tech’s huffs were small and frantic, heated and pleasured. Ed licked at the top of Spike’s jaw, pressing kisses and leaving small nips as he tried to keep his thrusts constant.

Suddenly, Spike froze—a buzzing filled the room.

It could only be one thing.

The bomb tech went to look, see what Sam was planning, but he couldn’t; his head nearly threw itself back with the pleasure as the vibrations raced up the pulsing organ between his legs.

“What the hell, Sam?” The brunette swore breathlessly and already close to coming, flailing harder and clenching around his lover without realizing it. Ed growled as he chased his release and grinned at his blonde lover’s actions. The vibrator skimmed along the sensitive skin of Spike’s cock, overwhelming and too stimulating, as the bald sniper bucked his hips one final time and lost it.

“You were so excited to use it last time,” The younger sniper laughed, watching as Ed lay sated and Spike bucked desperately into the feeling overwhelming his nerves.

When the bomb tech lost himself to orgasm, it was with a broken shout and a full-body shiver that left him panting and trembling. Still trapped in Ed’s arms, he simply shuddered with nowhere to go.

“We missed you,” Ed mumbled into his throat, and Spike laughed as he tried to catch his breath—watching as Sam ran the toy over himself and the blonde’s eyes rolled back in pleasure. A few moments later, and Sam was spilling over the sheets and slumping onto Spike’s stomach—Ed let out a grunt from the added weight, but didn’t complain otherwise.

“I missed you, too,” He admitted, carding a hand through the younger sniper’s hair and turning around to give Ed a peck. Greg moved closer to them, happy to take some of Sam’s weight off of Ed.

Suddenly, Sam laughed and Spike raised an eyebrow.

“What?”

“You still don’t have any clothes,” The blonde explained, mirth all over his expression, but Spike merely rolled his eyes and slumped, happily, into Ed’s embrace.


End file.
